The Detective's Child
by allonsysherlocklove
Summary: John Watson discovered that his best friend, Sherlock Holmes is actually a woman. Fast-forward a year and a half, and they have to face a challenge Sherlock may not be ready for: Parenthood. Sequel to The Female Detective. Post-TRF. Johnlock. Fem!lock. Parent!lock. PLEASE R&R!
1. Chapter 1: Worry

A/N: Guess what. The sequel to The Female Detective is here! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes. All rights belong to Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and the estate of Arthur Conan Doyle. Only the plot is mine. I like to play with the characters. It's fun.

* * *

I pulled myself from my mind palace, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I was pregnant.

"Have you ever seen her like this?" John asked, his tone slightly panicked.

"No, never," Mycroft replied, puzzled.

I blinked twice and looked around the room. John was pacing nervously back and forth across the flat. Mycroft was standing over my protectively, and Lestrade was sitting John's chair.

"Sherlock?" John said, rushing over to me and placing his hand on my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

I swallowed nervously and said, "I'm pregnant."

God, I hated the way that sounded. Vulnerable and needy. It wouldn't have mattered if it was just John, but brother and Lestrade had to be there.

I glanced around the room. John was kneeling in front of me now. He grabbed my hands and squeezed them reassuringly. I glanced up at Mycroft. There was a slightly resigned look on his face. He hadn't been expecting that, but he wasn't really surprised by it either. Lestrade, on the other hand, had a much more interesting reaction. There was a bewildered look on his face. He definitely hadn't been expecting that. Based on his surprise and our history, he had probably thought that I'd finally lost my mind.

John was speaking again, so I looked back at him. "What?" I asked.

"Are you okay? You just kind of...went away."

"I'm fine. I needed to calculate the likelihood that this is actually the cause of my symptoms." Lestrade was still staring at me, or, more accurately, my stomach. It was starting to put me off. "Would you stop it?" I snapped at him.

John had an amused expression on his face, and Mycroft just scowled at me. "I see you did not prepare them," I said to John.

"Wasn't really my place, was it?"

"It's as much your child as it is mine." The man was so frustrating sometimes. However, his expression softened slightly at my words, and my irritation faded a bit. Quite a bit. That was...good.

Mycroft cleared his throat loudly, and I looked up at him, not letting him see that he had startled me. "Gregory, perhaps we should show ourselves out?" he suggested.

"Yes. Get out." He was really starting to get on my nerves, and John was going to want to talk.

I waited until they had closed the door and started walking down the steps to turn my attention back to John. He was still kneeling on the floor in front of me. I squeezed his hands before I let go of them and slid over on the sofa to make room for John.

"Get up before you start hurting," I said. John got to his feet quickly and sat next to me. He draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me against his side.

After several minutes, John still hadn't spoken. I knew he wanted to talk, and, honestly, I did too. Of course, I wasn't going to say so.

"John?" I said, nudging his ribs with my fingers.

"Hm? What?" Ah, he'd been lost in thought.

"I'm sure you're going to have something to say, so let's just get it over with."

John must have sensed my discomfort because he began to rub my arm soothingly. "We're going to be parents," he finally said.

"Yes."

"As in we're going to have a child."

"Don't state the obvious, John. It doesn't suit you."

He scowled at me. "This isn't exactly what I was expecting today."

"You weren't expecting it? I didn't think this would ever happen. It was far too...unlikely."

"What do you mean?" John sounded genuinely confused.

I sighed. "The likelihood of my being able to conceive has always been low. My menstrual cycle has always been irregular, and my eating habits made it worse. Before you came along, I almost never had a period."

"Still-"

"This is your fault, you know," I said cutting him off.

"Why? Because I had sex with you? You initiate it at least half the time."

"No, you're the one that makes me eat."

John sighed loudly. "You know you're going to have to eat regularly now? And you'll need to start taking a supplement."

I opened my mouth to argue, but John cut me off. "It's not for you. It's for the baby."

My mouth snapped shut. I was now responsible for the life of a child. I began to panic as the next eighteen years stretched out in front of me and our hazardous lifestyled and all the things that could possibly go wrong began to assail me. All those enemies I had made would pose a threat to my child, John's child. And that wasn't even including all the ways that I could fail personally.

"John," I choked, sounding nothing like myself. "Are you sure about this?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Do-do you want to get rid of it?"

The idea repelled me. Why would I want to get rid of something that was half John. My wonderful John. "No!" I exclaimed as I realized that I hadn't spoken. "I just-I don't know if I'm ready."

"Hey," he said soothingly. "It's okay. People do this every day. Hell, even Anderson has kids."

The last bit suddenly made me feel much better. Of course, John knew it would. I calmed down a bit.

"And anyway," John continued, "our child will be one of the safest kids there is. A doctor and a consulting detective for parents, a landlady that used to be involved in a drug cartel, and a police inspector and the British government for uncles. Don't worry. Our kid will be fine."

I relaxed against John. I still wasn't completely sure, but I was beginning to feel better about it. And anyway, John would always be there to help.


	2. Chapter 2: Panic

I woke early the next morning draped over John on the sofa where we had apparently fallen asleep the night before. Based on the stiffness in my neck and our positions, I estimated that I had been asleep for about five hours. The traffic on the street below confirmed this.

Careful not to wake John, I worked my way out of his out of his arms. I considered waking him but decided against it. He was always irritable when he was woken what he considered to be too early. I needed to be alone with my thoughts anyway. I crossed through the kitchen and went into the bathroom, stretching on my way.

In the bathroom, I turned the shower on to warm up while I stripped. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I caught sight of my stomach. It was flat, but I knew that that wouldn't last long. I was already showing other signs of pregnancy including irritablity and morning sickness, which was horribly misnamed. I still wasn't entirely sure how I missed them in the first place. Perhaps John had some insight.

I stepped into the shower and allowed the warm water to run down my body as I began to question what would be happening to my body over the next few months. Of course, I knew the scientific aspect of pregnancy. It was vital. Pregnant women were murdered too. Still, the emotional side concerned me slightly. Perhaps more than slightly, though I would keep that from John. He worried too much as it was, and the whole pregnancy thing was going to make it that much worse.

And the fetus...the child. Supposedly expectant mothers are supposed to feel a strong emotional attatchment to their unborn offspring. I felt that it was important, that it should be guarded, but not very much past that. Of course, I felt something, but I wasn't entirely sure what it was. Perhaps those feelings came later...

God, I felt like I needed a cigarette.

I hesitated. That was one of those things that pregnant women weren't supposed to do. I knew there were other things, but I didn't know the whole list. And what if I had done one of those things already. I knew for a fact that I had had a cigarette three weeks ago when John's nagging had gotten on my nerves. There were so many ways, too many, that this could go wrong.

I quickly turned the shower off and tore the shower curtain open, only pausing long enough to grab my dressing gown off the back of the door. I flung the door open, wrapping the dressing gown around myself and ingoring the water that dripped from my body and puddled on the hall floor. I looked around for a phone, a laptop, anything I could use to connect to the internet. Finally, my gaze caught my laptop, which was nestled amongst discarded newspapers and clean beakers. I'd used it for an experiment two days ago that did not last nearly long enough to keep me occupied.

Flipping it open, I settled into a chair at the kitchen table. Of course, it was clean. John had become much more insistent about keeping the kitchen clean since he discovered that he could remove sex as a punishment. That man was despicable sometimes...

The internet was taking too long to connect. I tapped my fingers irritably but quietly. I did not need John walking in on me like this. This research was vital, and I was being delayed by the ridiculous computer.

Finally, finally, it connected, and I opened a browser and entered 'pregnancy' into the search bar. Site after site, I absorbed all sorts of things that could go wrong. Developmental delays, birth defects, the effects that my past drg abuse could have on the fetus.

Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder. I jerked my head around, aggravating the aready sore muscles, and saw John standing behind me.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look a bit...tense."

"I'm fine," I replied stiffly, snapping my laptop shut.

"No, you're not. What's going on?"

"Nothing, John." I snapped.

"What's up? Do you want to argue? Because we can argue if you want."

"What if I do? We argue all the time. Why should anything be different now?"

John paused and sighed before turning around and walking away.

"You're going to walk away from me?"

"No, you prat," he responded, glancing over his shoulder at me. "I'm going to make tea and then we're going to talk about this." He turned back toward the counter and switched the kettle on.

I dropped the laptop on the taple, perhaps making more noise than was necessary, and stomped into the living room, using the tble as a step stool on my way to the couch. I dropped down on the couch and glared toward the kitchen. I was not ready to have this discussion. Wadding up the blanket to use as a pillow, I sprawled on the couch, keeping my glare firmly in place.

A few minutes later, John came from the kitchen carrying two cups of tea. When he reached the couch, he nudged my knee with his. I grudgingly shifted mylegs so he could sit next to me. He set one cup in front of me on the table, but I ignored it and rolled over. John rested his hand on my leg, absentmindedly stroking the top of my foot.

"So," John started. I shifted again, trying to bury my face further into the blanket.

John sighed. "What's wrong, Sherlock?"

Frustrated, I sat up. "What do you want me to say, John?" I burst. "That I have no idea what I'm doing? That I've probably already damaged this child? That I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel?"

Instead of speaking, John set his cup on the table and turned toward me. He tugged on my arm, and I unwilling let him pull me into a hug. After a few moments, he spoke.

"So that's what this is all about. Sherlock, I can tell you now, you'll make a good mother."

I snorted. John must be delusional.

"I mean it, Sherlock. You are fiercely protective of the people you love."

"I don't even know if I love it, John." I hated how vulnerable I sounded, but it was too late to take the words back.

John chuckled, and I gave him a dirty look. "Sherlock, you're not the most in touch with your emotions. Took you hors of in depth analysis to realize that you loved me. From what I've seen, you're already really protective of the baby. I mean, why else would you be freaking out?"

"But I don't know how I feel about the...child. I know how I feel about you, and it's a similar feeling, but it's not the same."

"It wouldn't be."

"And all the things that could go wrong. John, what if I've already harmed our child? There are so many things that I could do wrong, some things I've already done."

"Sherlock, I''m a doctor. I work GP. You haven't done anything too terrible. Anyway, most of those thing they talk about are caused by long-term exposure. We can go through what's concerning you, and we'll talk about what needs to change."

I was feeling slightly better, but there was still so much information to process.

"But, John," I started.

"Do you trust me?" he interrupted.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to understand the subject change. "With my life."

"Good. Everything will be okay. Do you trust that? Anything that could go wrong is just speculation. If there are problems, we'll deal with them when we get to them.

I nooded, swallowing nervously. John was much better suited to being a parent, and he didn't seem worried. He would make sure that the child and I were taken care of.

"Yes, John." I leaned in toward him and pressed my lips agaisnt his. It was soothing. He grounded me. And that was why I married him. Because he completed me.

"By the way," John said, pulling back from me slightly. "You're cleaning up the water in the hall."


End file.
